Ú-erich o Nin Gwanno
by LegolasLover2003
Summary: When Legolas and Morlan are cut off from Legede's company, the prince is gravelly wounded. The great Elvenking Thranduil breaks his stoic mask to pray to Mandos for his son's life and to cry for the Elfling who stands at death's door.


**Title:** _"Ú-erich o Nin Gwanno"_  
**Author:** LegolasLover2003 aka Ashley  
**Category:** Book - _"The Lord of the Rings"_  
**Genre:** Angst/Adventure  
**Rating:** M  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own any rights to _"The Lord of the Rings"_. I just adore it to pieces! Legede, Legolia, Morlan, Elhael, Glorenpaur, and Cirithor are characters of my own invention. You may use them, but please ask permission to do so first.

* * *

The forest was ablaze with light, the tongues of fire licking the trees and catching each leaf and twig aflame. It coursed through the branches, destroying anything it touched. A ring of fire, crafted by Goblins had separated the Mirkwood patrol. In league with the foul spawn of Ungoliant, the Goblins set the trees aflame, penning the Elves in with the wicked spiders who sprang and spun their webs from a safe distance. Fighting as a unit had been impossible then as the smoke obscured the keen sight of the Firstborn.

For his part, Legolas had leapt into the nearest tree to rain arrows down upon the Goblins and spiders... until one of the arachnids ambushed him, spitting a poisonous burning bile in his face. Everything had gone black then, the prince screaming as he fell back against the tree in agonizing pain.

The crackling of the burning forest, the choking cloud of smoke that surrounded him... Legolas focused inward, trying desperately to calm himself... but his eyes refused to find the light and his body could feel the flames coming ever closer.

"LEGOLAS!"

The prince knew that voice! He and a handful of warriors had been separated from Legede's forces and now the Elven captain was surely coming to his aid. Legolas opened his mouth to call to his friend... but in doing so he drew in a deep breath of smoke and began to cough violently. He dared not loosen his grasp from the tree, for the Elf knew not what awaited him on the forest floor.

Spiders? Goblins? Fire?

How high up was he?

"LEGOLAS!"

Again the prince tried to call to the captain, but this time the coughing doubled his lithe body over. Unable to see and clutching blindly at the tree for support, the Elf lost his footing. His form plummeted from the tree, hitting anything in it's path on the way down. A sickening crack exploded in his chest, a scream ripping itself from lungs starved for clean air.

But there were no flames beneath, for the fires had stopped their spread... if only by the grace of the Valar. Large drops of rain had begun to fall, soaking the outlying forests of Mirkwood in their cold wet tears. The Goblins and the spiders now had more than just one or two Elves to contend with, for Legede's warriors had swarmed the glade mere moments after the prince's fall, battling back the shadows that threatened their homeland and their kin.

For a time, Legolas lay alone on the slowly muddying ground, his chest rising and falling, but with great pain.

"Legolas..."

The prince's lips parted to speak the captain's name, but all that came forth was a gasp, then a fit of coughing and something warmer than the rain flecking his cheeks and bubbling over his lips. It hurt so badly to draw breath. With eyes still unable to see, one lithe hand reached out, grasping the edge of what he could only guess was Legede's cloak as the prince tried desperately to speak.

Then there were suddenly hands on him, pushing aside his tunic and undoing the straps of the archer's quiver. The pressure on Legolas' chest intensified for the briefest of moments, his body jerking in pain.

"His ribs are broken. One must have punctured his lung." Legede was speaking to the warriors around him. There was a ripping sound and then a binding around the prince's chest.

Again Legolas tried to speak, blood on his lips as he did so.

"Bring the water!" the captain shouted before moving the archer just enough that his head was elevated. "Do not speak, caun nin." Legede whispered, taking a water skin handed to him and pouring the cold liquid over the prince's eyes.

Quickly, using the hem of his cloak, the captain wiped the water and blood from Legolas' face. Blue eyes ringed in an irritated red, open and unseeing stared back at him, though the eyes were moving and blinking, as if his charge were trying desperately to see the world around him.

"I know the pain is great, Legolas... but you can not sleep. Do you understand?" the white haired Elf glanced to his side. "Prepare a litter. I dare not make him ride."

"We are two days from home, captain." one of the warriors spoke solemnly. "The prince must..."

"Send a rider ahead to fetch a healer." Legede ordered. "The fastest among you. And tell the king."

The warrior bowed before disappearing... though soon the footfalls of a horse could be heard far away.

Focusing his attention back upon the prince, the Mirkwood captain made sure to elevate the younger Elf's head. "Take small breaths, caun nin."

"U... u-cenin..." Legolas whispered, his breaths hitching at the pain. A cough wracked his body, the prince turning his head to the side to spit blood. "Tu... tulu... enni..." ~{[I can not... I can not see... He... help... me...]}~

Gently, Legede moved blood streaked blond hair from the archer's face. "Hold on, Legolas. We are taking you home."

* * *

**_Ú-erich o Nin Gwanno_**

**You Cannot Leave Me**

* * *

The sight which had greeted Legede in that burning glade would be with him for as long as he walked the world. His friend and prince, still upon the ground amidst a sea of flames... It broke the captain's heart to think one so much younger than himself would find death before his time.

But Legolas had been alive, spared from the Halls of Mandos by a mere chance of fate. At least that was the white haired Elf's hope. Seeing the blood bubble forth from the archer's lips however did not bode well and it took all of Legede's self control to calm himself and assess the extent of the damage done. Legolas' injuries were severe, but they could be mended with care... or so he prayed. What was important now was making sure the prince continued to breathe, despite the pain.

While the litter was being readied, Legede busied himself by taking a small amount of herb from a pouch at his waist, mixing it with the remaining liquid from Legolas' own water skin. He carefully tipped it to the prince's lips.

"Drink this slowly." the captain whispered. "It will take some of the pain away, but you must stay awake for me, Legolas."

That was, no doubt, a comforting thought for the fallen Elf, who did as he was bade. The coughing returned however and as Legolas spit blood from his lips and onto the muddy ground, he gasped in agony, clutching hard at the captain's tunic with white knuckled fingers.

"Naegra..." the prince whispered softly, eyes turned toward his friend though still unseeing. ~{[It hurts (causes pain)...]}~

Legede smiled ever so slightly, a sad expression as his fingers gently brushed through the archer's blond hair. "Thuio, Legolas. Iston naegra, dan boe le thuio enni." ~{[Breathe, Legolas. I know it hurts, but you must breathe for me.}]~

One of the warriors, Morlan, returned. "The litter is prepared." he spoke quickly, glancing at the prince's prone form.

Without another word Morlan moved to Legolas' legs, ready to help lift his friend and liege. Both Elves worked swiftly yet with great care, placing the archer upon the litter and then lifting it between them both to be carried. Legede remained near his prince's head, in case the fair haired Elf needed some encouragement to remain conscious.

He breathed. It was shallow but it triggered no further coughing attacks and for a while no more blood tainted the archer's lips. From time to time Legolas would turn his head in pain, but as the herbs given to him began to take affect, those moments became fewer and farther between.

By the end of the first day's march, they had covered half the distance back to the Elvenking's Halls and Legede was delegating tasks to various warriors. Some would bring wood for a fire while others were placed on watch.

Morlan had taken up a post to watch over Legolas in the captain's absence. His green eyes focused on the prince in the darkness before kneeling and taking his friend's hand within his own.

"Ai, Legolas... You had best keep awake or the captain will have my hide." the dark haired Elf teased lightly, letting one thumb gently stroke over the digits in his hand.

There was a ghost of a smile on the prince's face, his unseeing gaze flickering toward Morlan. "Just think... what he would do... to me... should I sleep..." Legolas whispered, his voice soft and sentences short. He could only draw so much breath at a time, an attempt to stave off another bout of coughing. "Our patrol... how many, Morlan?"

A sadness crept into the other Elf's features and he shook his head. "Forgive me... we are all that survived the flames."

Legolas grit his teeth together at the notion that those under his own command had perished. "Five families... will know grief... come the morrow..." he whispered, the weight of those deaths heavy on his shoulders. "Six... should I..."

"Han u-pedo!" Morlan spoke quickly, squeezing the hand which he held as if to emphasize his words. ~{[Do not speak of it!]}~  
"If you were to give up hope... more than just one family would find grief. You are Thranduil's son and heir, Legolas. Do you not think the realm would grieve your passing from this world?"

When the prince said nothing, Morlan frowned, watching his friend intently, though obviously the Elf knew not that the green gaze of his companion was locked so fiercely upon him. "Pan nirithar, Legolas." the dark haired Elf spoke solemnly. "Nant uich ben-estel..." ~{[All will grieve, Legolas. You are not without hope.}]~

"You are not sleeping, I hope." Legede spoke as he came to kneel on the prince's other side. His blue gaze flickered up to Morlan who shook his head, before focusing back down to the younger Elf. "Whatever am I to do with you?"

"At least... this time... I did not... shoot you... in the foot..." the archer replied carefully, a very small smile on his lips.

Legede laughed, "That is true. But I am sure Morlan would agree that we would rather I be limping through the forest than carrying you between us." carefully, the captain lifted Legolas' head, tipping the prince's water skin to his lips. "Drink once more, Legolas. We will be home tomorrow."

"Hir nin!"

The galloping steps of a half a dozen horses could be heard entering the small glen where the patrol had set up camp. Running alongside those horses were the guards set to patrol.

Quickly Legede left the prince in Morlan's care once more and he stood, hastening to the horses that had arrived. His lithe fingers reached out to still the agitated movements of the lead stallion while his lord and king dismounted.

"Hir Thranduil, we did not expect..."

"I have brought the healer with me." spoke the Elvenking quickly, not even sparing Legede a glance as he strode toward the prone form on the other side of the fire.

The poor warrior who had ridden to bring back aid appeared at the captain's side. "I could not dissuade the king from attending." the Elf spoke quickly, but Legede held up a hand, whispering that he understood and that the warrior had done what was best given the circumstances.

Legolas' eyes moved toward the commotion, though he could not quite understand. From the sound of it his father had come... but...

"Hir nin." Morlan spoke in reverence, placing one hand to his chest and bowing.

Thranduil took notice but for the most part focused on his son alone. "Legolas..." the Elvenking knelt in the same spot Legede had occupied just moments before.

"Adar?" the prince whispered, confusion evident in his features. "I do not understand..."

"If you please?" spoke an Elf at Morlan's side.

Quickly he moved away, making room for the newly arrived healer. This particular Elf did not have the bedside manner that most possessed... but his skills, while sometimes painful, were without question. He turned Legolas' head to face him, studying the archer's unseeing eyes for a moment.

"Your gaze was poisoned." the healer, Glorenpaur spoke, reaching into the satchel he had brought along with him. "The eyes should be bound to avoid undue strain. Close them, caun nin."

Legolas felt a hand on his shoulder, a familiar pressure that brought him comfort, for he knew the hand belonged to his father and thus he did as the healer instructed. A cloth was soon wrapped about his eyes so that he could not open them even if he tried.

Glorenpaur began again to inspect the prince, pressing lightly along the bandages about his ribs. Finally he found the source of the archer's discomfort, for Legolas cried out softly. This triggered a new attack and the Elf began to cough violently as his lungs fought for the air they so desperately needed. Blood burst forth from his lips, splashing upon Thranduil's robes as the Elvenking tried to help his son. Quickly Legede returned, placing himself behind the prince and thus supporting the younger elf's head upon his lap. The elevation helped and soon Legolas was breathing small even breaths once more.

"He needs to return to the halls as soon as possible." Glorenpaur's dark eyes flickered up to Thranduil. "I can not treat this here. I can bandage the wounds but he needs to be kept still... and the longer we tarry, the worse his chances will be."

Nodding, the Elvenking used his own cloak to wipe the blood from his son's lips. "I will carry him. Those who arrived with me will leave their horses here and we will return to the halls on foot. Legede," Thranduil glanced to his captain and closest friend. "Forgive me but I trust no other to return this patrol home."

"I will help you, hir nin." Morlan quickly spoke up. "I am far from tired and it is only right that I do this. One of Legolas' arrows spared my life in the fight. I owe it to him."

Thranduil stood, pointing to his son's feet. "Then you will take up the lower side. I will carry this end."

One of the warriors stepped forward, "Hir nin, let us carry the prince for you."

The blue glare from the Elvenking that returned to that poor warrior was fierce. Legede stood, standing between the two and placing a hand on the warrior's shoulder. "Leave it be." the captain whispered softly before turning his attention back to his liege. "The rain ended but a few hours ago, hir nin, and the paths will be muddy. Your guards only worry for you."

Thranduil looked away and back to his son. "They worry needlessly, Legede." with a nod to Morlan, both Elves gently lifted the litter between them. "Follow as swiftly as you may." he spoke once more to Legede before departing the glen.

With the Elvenking went his guards and the healer. The warrior who had hastened to bring Glorenpaur to the prince stepped up beside Legede, watching them disappear into the trees.

"He is strong, captain."

The white haired Elf nodded, but did not reply further.

* * *

"Captain!"

Looking up, Legede smiled softly as he watched Morlan descend the steps within the Great Gate. "How does he fair?"  
It was quite understood just who the white haired Elf meant, even without giving a name.

Morlan glanced behind him and back the way he had come. "Hir Thranduil kept him awake until we reached the halls. I have not been permitted to see him since. Only the healers and the king have been to his side." before the older Elf could head toward the healing rooms however, Morlan reached out and stopped him. "Please, Legede... will you let me know his condition?"

That same small soft smile remained and the captain replied, "I will. Keep it secret though, I beg. If Legolas fares ill... the king will not wish it known."

There was a sadness in Morlan's green gaze, but he understood and nodded. "If he is awake... give him my regards."

Clapping the dark haired Elf on the shoulder, Legede continued onward while Morlan saw to the patrol that had returned... and to the dead whom they bore along with them.

The Halls of the Elvenking were bustling with activity. Healers dashing down steps to care for the wounded while servants bore bedding and bandages, food and water, herbs and poultices here and there at the request of the healers they served. The captain had seen this so many times before... in ages past... when war was imminent and the darkness in the Greenwood was spreading... Rarely had patrols returned so damaged as this...

"Hir nin..." Legede spoke as he saw the Elvenking step from the doorway.

None dared look upon him then... no Elf spoke nor acknowledge their lord... save the white haired captain. It was too terrible... the feel of him. There was rage and grief and a near madness that was reflected in the blue gaze that turned upon Legede. But there was something else... something that frightened the captain...

Quickly the Elf ascended the last few steps and reached out, grabbing Thranduil before his king could fall. He bore his lord's weight, for the Elvenking seemed on the verge of fainting. Legede remained silent while the blond Elf composed himself the best he could and very carefully Thranduil leaned back against the wall, keeping one hand on Legede's shoulder for support should he need it.

"Mellon nin... please..."

"My son is dying." the Elvenking spoke, his voice hard and tinged with despair. "My firstborn is gone... Legolas is all that I..."

One of Legede's hands reached out, placing itself against his liege's chest in hopes of focusing him. "Legolas is strong, Thranduil. I will speak to the healers. Surely they..."

"We did not arrive in time, they fear." the regal Elf continued, his gaze drawn back to the healing rooms. "I can not watch him leave me..."

"Thranduil..."

"I am the king and he is my son and heir and yet they have banished me from his bedside!" Thranduil fumed, his body coiling like a spring with the want to return.

Legede sighed softly, his blue gaze focused in on his lord. "I do not know what they will say to me... but I will not suffer my lord to stand apart from his son in this dark time. But you, Thranduil, must find yourself again. It will do Legolas no good to feel your grief. Healers or not, I will drag them from the room myself if I must." carefully Legede clasped his friend's shoulders with his hands. "You are our king and if it is the will of Mandos... so be it. But Legolas will not die alone. I will not suffer you to be denied this right. They are healers... doing the best they can for the prince... but they are not the king, hir nin."

With the aid of his captain, Thranduil returned into the rooms of the healers. One stepped up to block his path... and that healer was quickly pushed aside.

"You can not be here! The treatment is not meant for..." but the healer was silenced as Legede shoved him against the wall.

Stopping where he stood, Thranduil did not turn to the Elf... but instead his eyes glanced to him. The king's chin was tilted upward... proud and regal... determination set in his bearing.

"You will not keep me from my son. As your king, I will not strike you... but the captain shall if you do not stand down." the Elvenking spoke coldly, drawing into himself and folding an unemotional mask upon his face.

For a moment, the healer looked as if he would put up a fight. "You will not like what you see. Glorenpaur bid you to leave for a reason."

Thranduil's head turned to the Elf, his gaze frigid. "I will see it nevertheless."

"Then," the healer reached into his tunic, withdrawing a couple pieces of cloth. "I ask that you tie these about your noses and mouths. For the prince's own good, hir nin."

Legede took the cloths, handing one to his liege before doing as the healer asked. He also took a couple of small leather bands from the Elf, using them to tie his hair in a bundle that flowed down his back. Quickly the captain moved behind his lord, gathering the Elvenking's hair in the same way and tying it back as well.

Without another word, Thranduil strode into the room, his robes making not a sound on the floor as he walked. The scent of death struck him hard, but the Elvenking had known this stench for ages. War would one day make corpses of them all... but not his son this day... not if he could help it.

What he saw however...

It took every ounce of willpower to keep himself standing. Thranduil stepped forward until he stood near to Glorenpaur. The healer glanced to his king, but said nothing for the time being... for his fingers were buried in the prince's chest.

"How is this possible?" Legede whispered, staring wide eyed at the sight before him. The urge to tear Glorenpaur away from his friend and charge was great... but since his liege moved not...

"The prince breathed an infusion of my own making, consisting primarily of water from the Mornduin and lies in a deep sleep. This would be too painful if he were awake, hir nin." Glorenpaur was speaking softly, his fingers working as quickly and carefully as they may. "I have practiced such procedures many times."

Thranduil said nothing... for the king could not find the words even if he wished.

His captain however was far more vocal, thankfully. "Practiced how?"

"On yrch dead."

Blue eyes closed and Thranduil looked away, stilling the fear in his heart.

"This is no orc and he is certainly not dead!" Legede admonished, looking on in frustration and helplessness. "The prince is..."

"The prince would die if we did nothing." Glorenpaur replied, nodding to one of the Elves nearby who was assisting him. "Quiet yourself or I will have you removed, captain." he glanced to his lord, "The king understands that I must not be distracted. I would rather neither of you be present at this time... but it seems my efforts to dissuade the king from remaining were for naught."

Legede sighed slightly, glaring at the healer. "The king can not find the words to..."

"Enough." Thranduil whispered, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Let him work..."

Silence descended on the room then. For what seemed an age but was really only moments, Glorenpaur worked to find that which he sought. Suddenly however, his gaze focused on his assistant. "Bring it."

The Elf nodded, walking to a small fire burning in the corner hearth. He drew forth a hot poker, handing it to the healer.

Legede put a hand on his lord's arm, stilling the king from moving forward. Both feared what would come to pass... and yet...

With steady hands, Glorenpaur took the red hot metal and slipped it carefully into the cut. There was a hiss... and the smell of burning flesh and blood. Thranduil paled, fearing to be ill... but never did he look away.

Tossing the poker aside, Glorenpaur quickly began to stitch up the cut. "The prince must not be moved. His ribs will set... and the tear in them has been closed." the healer looked up to his king. "He is in Mandos' hands now, hir nin. I have done all I can."

Thranduil nodded, reaching one lithe hand out to gently run his fingers through the sleeping archer's blond locks. "Then I will pray... When you are done, leave me with him."

* * *

It took time for the healers to wash the prince's blood from their fair hands. All the while, Legede helped them make their liege and his son as comfortable as possible. Glorenpaur and his assistants departed, and for a time, the captain stood in the doorway, watching his friend.

"Thranduil..."

For a long moment of silence, the Elvenking did not speak. He sat at Legolas' bedside, his lithe fingers placed gently over the bandages which adorned his son's chest. Legede moved forward but stopped when one hand rose in a silent signal to remain where he was.

"Leave me, mellon nin... I wish time alone with my son." the king spoke, his voice composed.

But Legede could read the pain there... he had known Thranduil for far too long and had been at his side for ages gone by. Bowing, the captain walked from the room, closing the door behind him. He would start a silent vigil outside... and no amount of prodding by healers could cause the white haired Elf to give up his post.

Thranduil did not move for a long time once his friend had departed. Instead, he simply sat, blue gaze turned down as he stared at his son's sleeping visage. Legolas had been in such pain as they hastened to their halls... and now he dreamt... an enchanted sleep that was free of fear... of anguish...

"Ion nin..." the Elvenking whispered, moving his hand from the prince's injuries to gently cup the side of the younger Elf's cheek. "Would that I had the foresight to spare you from harm... but I have not the power... I never have... and yet I..." Thranduil's voice broke as the first of many tears spilled from his blue gaze. "You are strong." It had taken Thranduil some time to compose himself once more and he smiled sadly. "You are so very strong, Legolas. Of mind and body... for you have grown up in this darkening wood... and you have fought evil at every turn. Long have I wished to keep you safe within these halls, but you are not an Elfling any longer." standing from where he sat, Thranduil took his son's head in his hands and leaned over the archer, pressing his forehead against that of the prince. "You are my son, Legolas. Your light shall not fade from this world... U-erich o nin gwanno..." ~{[You cannot leave me...]}~

But there was no reaction to the tears of the Elvenking and the prince slept soundly.

Sighing softly, Thranduil returned to his seat and clasped his hands together before him. He bent his head, eyes closed in his grief.

"Mandos... spare the life of one who wishes nothing more than to see his people free of the shadow of Morgoth. I beg of you... do not take my son..."

* * *

The hours turned to days.  
Thranduil appointed Elhael as acting regent in his own absence and Morlan as a temporary captain in Legede's place, for the purpose of caring for the daily duties of his kingdom. Both king and captain were loath to leave the prince's bedside and the whole of Mirkwood appeared to mourn a death that seemed imminent to all but those most closely affected. When the Elvenking was preoccupied with his son, the captain consoled the youngest member of the royal family and tried to bring hope to Thranduil's small daughter. But neither would permit the small Legolia to see her brother, on what they all believed his death bed.

And so, there were no feasts nor joyous songs sung in the Elvenking's Halls for a very long time.

As the hot dry summer gave way to the cooling temperatures of fall, the Elves of the Mirkwood still had no news of their prince, save that he slept upon death's door. Their king, refusing to leave the side of his son, was rumored to be falling into madness and succumbing to the pain of his own grief. In reality this was not completely true, for while Thranduil knew nothing but sadness in those days... he held hope, for Legolas breathed still. His wounds had healed, and even the bandages about the prince's eyes had been removed, and now there was naught but a small scar on his chest to belay the grievous injuries. Glorenpaur had confided in the king that it could be some time before the prince woke, simply because the enchantment from the Mornduin was strong and the archer's life had been on the brink of death. He too held onto hope, checking Legolas' ribs daily to make sure they had mended themselves properly. For his part, Thranduil spent the days reading to his son tales of old or helping Glorenpaur tip small spoons of broth down the prince's throat so that the Elf did not fade from starvation. Legede however was beginning to despair, for Legolas' body was withering away before their very eyes... and if he did not wake soon...

Two months to the day that Legolas had fallen from that burning oak, Thranduil was sitting at his son's side, flipping through the pages of a book. His throat was dry and sore, not uncommon for having been reading aloud for a few hours, and so the king was taking a break... doubting that the prince would mind.

He felt something odd then... something that pulled at his heart and threatened tears. Blue eyes looked up, focusing on the archer who lay still... motionless...

Except for the equally blue gaze that stared back at him.

"Legolas..." Thranduil whispered, dropping the book to the floor and rushing the few feet from the chair to the bed. Quickly he bent low, clasping his son's hand in his own. "Legolas? Are you with me?"

There was confusion in the prince's blue gaze and he licked his lips. His mouth felt very dry... but somehow... "Ada? Wh...ere?"

"Shhhh..." the Elvenking smiled, gently brushing his son's hair back. "You are safe and home, ion nin. Just relax and try not to move."  
Thranduil glanced toward the door, but he was loath to leave his son alone so soon after he had woken.

Thankfully Legede had been on his way to relieve his liege when the archer woke. Seeing Legolas speaking, the captain back tracked, running down the hall to fetch Glorenpaur.

That same confusion however, never left Legolas' gaze. "I... fell..." he whispered, eyes searching his father for an explanation. "I... was dying..."

"But you did not." Thranduil whispered, one hand on his son's cheek to try and keep him focused. "You are stronger than even I gave you credit for."

Legolas shook his head, "I heard... you... U-erich... o nin... gwanno..." for a moment, the prince just drew in a slow long breath. ~{[You... cannot... leave me...]}~

It hurt, but the pain was bearable and nothing like the agony he remembered before. The archer closed his eyes, feeling faint and light headed. Such confusion was not helping anything... and yet...

"I could... not find... you, ada..." Legolas' voice was soft and tinged with sadness. "I searched... I..."

Thranduil shook his head, leaning forward to press his forehead against that of his son. "Be at peace, ion nin. You have returned to me. That is all that matters." The tears of the Elvenking, tears of joy and thanks, fell from the son of Oropher's eyes to land in his son's hair. "Praise Eru..." he whispered as relief washed over him.

That evening... there was much joy in the halls of the Elvenking, for they had not lost their most beloved prince after all.

* * *

Just a little over one month since Legolas opened his eyes once more in the healing halls, Morlan was on his way to visit his friend. He brought with him a book, penned by his hand and by the hands of those who made up the garrison which their prince commanded... at least those who remained. All of the Elves who counted Legolas as their brother in arms had felt the despair of their king and the hopelessness that they could only attribute to losing the prince.

But the archer had been spared. He had lived. And while life went back to normal for many of the Elves of the Mirkwood... there were some who waited for the return of their prince.

Since waking, Legolas had remained confined to bed. He was gaining his strength slowly, day by day, but even Morlan could see that the prince wished to be back at their side, fighting the darkness that spread over their homeland.

So, thinking it might help Legolas pass the time, those of the garrison had written their favorite tales of valor down and Morlan had bound the pages together in a book. Now, he traveled quickly to the side of his friend, hoping to see the prince smile at such a gift.

But he was stopped by Legede before he ever reached the healing halls.

"Morlan. The king wishes you to dine at his table tonight." spoke the captain as he clasped the younger Elf on the shoulder.

For a moment, Morlan's green gaze was confused. "Captain, I was just on my way to see Legolas. I..."

"It can wait."

That had been an unexpected reaction... especially coming from the Elf who had nearly been as grieved as their king not long before.

And yet Legede began to steer the soldier off in the direction of the dinning hall. Morlan had no knowledge of there being any sort of feast tonight... and from what he understood, this should have been a family affair alone.

Sighing, the dark haired Elf glanced to his captain as they walked, "Does the king grow weary of having just you for dinner conversation?" Morlan teased.

This of course garnered him a cuff to the back of the head.

"Be on your best behavior, Elfling." Legede replied with a smile, glad to see that the younger soldier was in good spirits again. "I believe he wishes to thank you for helping bear the prince home."

Nodding, Morlan smiled softly. "I would have walked a thousand leagues bearing Legolas if I had to."

"I know."

The sudden voice of the king startled both Elves. Legede laughed at the amused look on his lord's face... an expression that perhaps Morlan was not so familiar with.

"Thranduil, I brought him... as you asked."

Stepping forth, the Elvenking stopped once he was but a foot from his son's friend. He placed one hand over his heart and bowed. "You have my thanks, Morlan Cirithorion. For your deeds you are to be promoted." seeing the stunned expression on the younger Elf's face, Thranduil could not help but smile. "You will answer to none save myself, Legolas, and Legede from now on, Morlan and, until my son is well, his garrison is yours to command."

Quickly, the green-eyed Elf bowed to his lord, "I accept, hir nin."

"Now." Thranduil spoke once more, turning slightly to indicate that the others follow him. "How about some dinner to celebrate, hmm? I had wished to invite you to my table before, Morlan... but matters that I had not attended to lately took up quite a bit of my time, I fear." the king continued as they walked.

Soon the small group was in the Elvenking's dinning hall. Thranduil seated himself at the head of the table, though for this special occasion, Morlan had the privilege of sitting at the king's left. Legede had left a seat vacant on his king's right and then seated himself next to the empty chair.

"I am sure you will enjoy having Legolas at your table again, hir nin." Morlan spoke with a smile and a glance at the empty chair.

Thranduil returned that smile with one of his own. "Nothing would please me more. In fact..."

The king's words stopped however, his gaze focused on the doorway across the room. For a moment, neither of his guests understood... but soon the blue gaze of the captain followed his liege's line of sight and Morlan too turned his eyes upon the doorway. But no Elf made a sound.

Well no, perhaps that is not true... for there was sound... a very soft tapping of wood upon the stone floor.

"Forgive me, ada... I wished to join you." Legolas spoke, standing there with a smile, a cane in one hand that he carefully leaned upon. "I fear I am not quite strong enough to walk unaided but..."

Before Legolas could finish his sentence, Thranduil was on his feet and the Elvenking walked swiftly across the room. He reached out, helping to support his son and carefully aid and guide the prince to his rightful place at the table.

"Ada... I could have managed." the archer whispered, feeling a bit foolish.

Legede and Morlan were both standing now as well, watching with their own smiles as father and son came toward them.

"You could have managed yes... but we would certainly get to dinner quicker if you accepted some help, caun nin." Legede spoke with a smile, pulling out the chair for Legolas to sit.

Once everyone was comfortable, Morlan placed the book he had meant to deliver on the table, pushing it toward his friend. "The garrison wrote this up. We had hoped it would help you pass the time... though I see now that you can finally leave your chambers."

The smile on the archer's face increased, "You did not need to trouble yourselves... but as I am not quite as well as I had hoped, this book should come in quite handy to stave off boredom. Hannon le, Morlan."

"Your friend here has been promoted, Legolas." Thranduil spoke as he too was now sitting and wine was being poured for all those assembled. "He will command your garrison until you are well."

Legolas laughed and congratulated his friend, "It is only right he do so. Morlan is far more capable than I at..."

"MUINDOR!"

A soft sound of running feet reached the ears of the Elves at the table as Legolia dashed across the stone and practically threw herself at Legolas. The Elfling was holding tight to her brother, and the prince's arms wrapped around his sister protectively. For a moment, the captain feared she might aggravate the archer's injuries... but it soon became apparent that the child's grasp bothered him not at all.

"I am so glad you are back, Legolas." the girl spoke, sitting on the prince's lap.  
Thranduil reached one hand out, placing it upon his daughter's head. "Come, Legolia. Let Legolas eat his dinner. Do you wish to sit beside him?"

When the child nodded, Legede stood from his own seat and bade the princess to take his place. He moved to sit at Morlan's side, the captain exchanging a glance and a smile with his new second-in-command.

"You must promise me something, Legolas." the Elvenking spoke up then, his blue gaze focused on the archer as the prince lifted a wine cup to his lips.

When the elder Elf said nothing, his son arched an eyebrow, refraining from taking a drink just yet. "Ada?"

"You must promise me... that you will never do that again. That you will never worry me like that again."

A small smile crept onto Legolas' face. He set the cup down, reaching out one lithe hand to take his father's own. "I can not promise that... not in this age..."

"Legolas..."

The smile however remained. "But... I will try, ada. I too, am not so eager to leave this world."

Clasping his son's hand in his own, Thranduil returned Legolas' smile. "That is all I could ever ask, ion nin."

* * *

**THE END**

* * *

**Sindarin Words to Know:**

caun nin = my prince

ai = ah

hir = lord

hir nin = my lord

adar = father

ada = father

mellon nin = my friend

yrch = orc

ion nin = my son

Cirithorion = son of Cirithor

hannon le = thank you

muindor = brother

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

- "nirithar" may be the wrong use of "nir" for grieve. I know "nir" is for "shedding tears" (but was subtitled as "grief" in LOTR: TTT) and I conjugated it like "tir".

- Nant uich ben-estel" may be wrong because I took it from the complete recordings of ROTK "The Last Debate" and the line was originally "annant uich ben-estel" but I knew that the "a" was for "and" and I thought a double consonant looked weird without that "a".

- Morlan is a character I invented for the short story "Secrets or the Wisdom of a Six Year Old". His name means "dark weave", and in this case 'weave' is meaning 'braided hair'. His name was crafted from Eldarin roots only.

- Glorenpaur was invented for this story and his name means "golden fist" because he had healers hands and such a skill is surely worth much (gold = currency). For his name I ignored Eldarin roots and pieced together full words instead.

- I like to use "hir" with Thranduil's name instead of "aran", especially when the speaker is an Elf of Mirkwood. I wouldn't expect him to react well to say, a Dwarf using "hir" (if they knew Elvish of course) but to those he counts among his people or close in status (like I would have Aragorn use "hir" when speaking with Thranduil and him not take offense). So it's really just a preference thing.

- "Mornduin" is a name of my own invention. Since the Enchanted River in Mirkwood is never given an Elvish name, I combined the words for black "morn" and river "duin" in a similar fashion to how the "Anduin" got it's name. The Enchanted River is black so... it only made sense.

- I kind of stole the "glance" of Thranduil, haha. When I was writing this story I was fascinated with the trailer for _"The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug"_ where Thranduil is speaking in profile and his eyes just kind of glance to the side all haughty-like. His regal bearing in that moment just struck me... so imagine that, only he's speaking to a healer instead of a Dwarf, hehehe.

- Elhael was invented for this story and his name means "wise star" because he is one of Thranduil's advisers. The world "hael" is a form of "sael" which means "wise", while "el" means "star".

- "Ada" and "Adar" both mean "Father" but I see them as different in a sense. I feel as if Legolas would address Thranduil as "adar" in public, like he did when the Elvenking came to him in the woods in this story... and yet use "ada" in private. Kind of a "father" versus "dad" sort of thing, if you get my meaning.

- Cirithor was invented for this story and his name means "over the high mountain pass". He is the father of Morlan, thus Cirithor-ion (son of Cirithor).

* * *

**Muse Moments:**

Nil yawned, stretching her arms up over her head. "Man this one shot took me a good week to write... a few pages here then a few pages there then an ending I didn't like that I had to fix."  
"You did not like the ending?" Legolas asked, sitting on the bed with his legs crossed, obviously pouting about the entire affair.  
She rolled her eyes, "I had meant it to stop at the "many feasts and joy in Mirkwood" blah blah blah part... but it just seemed empty. I wanted another scene of you and your father."  
Legolas sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "You do realize that almost killing me is starting to get on ada's nerves... don't you?"  
"Of course. It's part of why I do it." Nil replied with a smile. "Besides, you know I would never kill you... it would make the story AU and I really don't go in for such things."  
"True..." the Elf pondered for a moment. "But it seems I have returned to being your tormentee of choice, Nileregwen."  
Nil laughed, "Hardly! No... I enjoy tormenting you yes but... I think... sometime soon I shall torment your father instead... yes... I would like Thranduil to believe you dead and then suffer agony..."  
Legolas sighed, rolling his eyes. "You truly are hopeless. So why did you write this so swiftly anyway?"  
"Oh! Because I wanted this story to go out before 'The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug' comes out next week. I truly didn't want my personal interpretation of Thranduil to be possibly changed by Peter Jackson's version... though I do hope they are similar."  
Smiling slightly, Legolas nodded. "I have a feeling they will be... After all, my father is not unkind to his kin."  
"I do hope you're right, Legolas... I do so hope you're right... hehehe."


End file.
